[ Geralt is quick to follow before the tug at his arm to guide him. He only relents in pace because she is familiar with this place and he is not. John is already out of view, but Geralt can smell him, a difficult task with all the pomp and circumstance and ridiculous luxuries afforded by all those currently in the room.
His own pulse is quicker than normal, a mixture of excitement and dread that drives him. He thinks of Stregobor and what he might do should he find out about this. The very thought makes his blood boil. ]
If he knows others may yet find out. This place is too dangerous for him.
[Bless and curse the Witcher. He is right to warn of danger. That's his purpose. And it comes from care as much as survival. As they scurry through the party, the winding, older passages leading to the center of the tower, the source, clearly John is being pulled along by the sheer power.
The quiet buzzes in her ears as they finally break away. Torches ignite as they pass through the darkened halls. John is nowhere in sight.]
Fuck.
[They still must go. They must press on. There are too many here with agendas of their own to exploit this new truth.
The archmages have deemed their meeting adjourned and spill from one of the disappearing and reappearing rooms and wings. Of course John is there as they begin to file out. Why would he not be? Old, analytical eyes squint at him.]
[ John has no love for the way the old, wrinkled types squint at him and try to peel him apart by gaze alone. It sets his teeth on edge and he's already moving again before Stregebor comes out. If anything, he wants as much distance between himself and that other old bastard as he can get. Makes his skin crawl, that one.
So he's back to following the magic, letting it guide him through the ancient halls, feeling the lick of it like fire on his fingertips. A whisper of promise that tugs him along like a thread he can't see.
Unbeknownst to him, Stregebor watches his retreat with interest then looks over as Yennefer and Geralt arrive. The smile that turns up the corners of his mouth is cold and knowing. Geralt only barely manages to swallow down a snarl. ]
We're wasting time with this useless dance around the rest of them. Stregebor senses something, we need to get to John quickly. Is there another way to him?
[ He doesn't care what rules might be in place to prevent modes of travel if there are any. The important thing is getting to the young mage alone in this dangerous place. ]
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His own pulse is quicker than normal, a mixture of excitement and dread that drives him. He thinks of Stregobor and what he might do should he find out about this. The very thought makes his blood boil. ]
If he knows others may yet find out. This place is too dangerous for him.
no subject
The quiet buzzes in her ears as they finally break away. Torches ignite as they pass through the darkened halls. John is nowhere in sight.]
Fuck.
[They still must go. They must press on. There are too many here with agendas of their own to exploit this new truth.
The archmages have deemed their meeting adjourned and spill from one of the disappearing and reappearing rooms and wings. Of course John is there as they begin to file out. Why would he not be? Old, analytical eyes squint at him.]
no subject
So he's back to following the magic, letting it guide him through the ancient halls, feeling the lick of it like fire on his fingertips. A whisper of promise that tugs him along like a thread he can't see.
Unbeknownst to him, Stregebor watches his retreat with interest then looks over as Yennefer and Geralt arrive. The smile that turns up the corners of his mouth is cold and knowing. Geralt only barely manages to swallow down a snarl. ]
We're wasting time with this useless dance around the rest of them. Stregebor senses something, we need to get to John quickly. Is there another way to him?
[ He doesn't care what rules might be in place to prevent modes of travel if there are any. The important thing is getting to the young mage alone in this dangerous place. ]